


Totally Out Of It

by LadyGrimReaper



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: A Better Warning Because this might be slightly triggery, Drugged Sex, Extremely Rough Sex, Hot Sex, I can't place tags without giving away the plot, Implied Drug Use, M/M, Rough Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, slight dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGrimReaper/pseuds/LadyGrimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock BBC Kink Meme Fill: The <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21697.html?thread=126604737#t126806209">Prompt</a>.</p>
<p>An intoxicated John gets frisky with Sherlock in a very compromising position.  I can't say too much without giving away the plot! Just read it: I promise you'll like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Totally Out Of It

Sherlock paced back and forth in front of the couch, going round and round the coffee table.

 

Where was John? He told John to stay at the flat, and what did he do?! He went anyways! John obviously didn't belong at this type of party, and Sherlock was just barely able to fit in with a lot of make-up and tight fitting clothing.

 

He checked his phone again.

 

Zero messages from John.

 

**Did you seem to lose your pet, dear brother?**

 

**Of course I haven't seen him. It's my day off! Piss off! I'm relaxing until I get called in again.**

 

**J. not been seen in 2.5 hours from Bk St. Many on look out.**

None of his usual methods of surveillance were working!

Sherlock ignored his brother and Lestrade and text his homeless networking number.

 

**Keep looking! S.H.**

 

He stumped off to the kitchen and noisily boiled some water. He checked his phone again.

 

Zero texts from anyone.

 

Once he had his tea, he sprawled out in his chair and glared over at John's chair as if the object had offended him for not presenting his flatmate to him whenever he needed him to be there.

 

He put the case _on hold_.

 

That should have never happened. At all. No way. Nope. Never again.

 

Suddenly the flat door blew open and in walked a wind blown, waist cut Belstaff wearing giggling John Watson.

 

The cup of tea lay forgotten as it fell to the floor, splashing and rolling its way underneath Sherlock's chair.

 

John giggled again and practically floated over to Sherlock with a giant grin on his face. " Sherlock! Oh.. Sherlooooooock. Ooh you have a funny name, but it fits! I swear it does. It fits you. An unique name for an unique person. Mr. Sherlock Holmes of the six foot height, black curls, luscious lips, and oh my god that neck. Sherlock? Who were your parents?! They created..a masterpiece! You couldn't be more perfect.. except I would have liked for there to be no bloody body parts in the fridge, but Jesus!"

 

John had sidled up into Sherlock's space, allowing for him to see the slightly blown pupils of his flatmate and for him to smell the smoke and alcohol of a club. John was .. . _intoxicated_.

 

"And how could I forget those cheekbones... They really could cut paper, Sherlock, you should experiment with that one day." John turned away towards the kitchen. " Did you want some te-- WHOA!" He had slipped on the puddle of tea and landed in Sherlock's lap with a quiet grunt from the dark haired male.

 

Sherlock was stunned silent, not even reacting to the blonde falling into his lap.

 

John giggled loudly, not making a move to get up from his flat-mate’s lap. "God, Sherlock! You're even more beautiful up close. Your eyes are just .. extremely beautiful you don't even know. Ooh and those _lips_."

 

He yawns a bit, moving his head so that he leans it against the bony shoulder. He wiggled his hips, frowning a bit until he found a very comfortable position. His legs were spread obscenely wide around Sherlock's and _oh_ there was a slightly noticeable bulge beginning to form beneath him, but he was just imagining things.

 

"Mm you're actually quite comfortable, Sherlock. Just the luck, you have the looks, brains, and comfort-ability. God took his time with you." He giggles again, leaning his neck back to attach his lips to a point on Sherlock's jawline.

 

Sherlock had his hands on John's hips, hoping to keep them still but John's ranting was starting to get to him, and lord did he have a compliment kink, and John was going to notice that he was getting hard any second, especially with the damn wiggling.

 

Sherlock finally gasped out, his hands clenched on his those hips. "Ecstasy!"

 

John singsonged. " I am totally not! I just had....2, no three shots and four, no maybe five beers. OKAY the point is that I am not drunk! I am pleasantly buzzed! Though there was something weird in that last drink I had, it made me feel all fuzzy and goood I danced for hours!" John started humming something, rolling his hips and wiggling his shoulders in a parody of his dancing.

 

Sherlock gasped hard, fingers in a white knuckled grip along those hips and he couldn't stop himself from thrusting his fully erect cock against John's arse once.

 

John paused. There was a moment of slightly awkward silence, and then John rolled his hips again teasingly, and Sherlock groaned, snaking a long fingered hand between John's thighs and unzipping his own trousers one handed.

 

John gasps, excitedly. " Ooh, I wonder if the carpet matches the curtains." He whispered conspiratorially.

 

John was intoxicated! He couldn't do this! But lord, he was basically throwing himself at Sherlock! What was he to do?! Of course there had been a few times where they would look at each other like one would want to eat the other up. But there had been no action at all. So Sherlock had let it fall out of his mind. He wanted John to be the one to approach him and pursue him!

 

And oh was he pursuing now. John was gagging for Sherlock's cock like a whore now, one arm wrapped around the gorgeous neck, the other bracing itself on the chair, his legs spread around Sherlock's.

 

He was begging for it.

 

Sherlock could only take so much. He was a slave to his 'transport' just like everybody else was, he just had greater control.

 

Sherlock snapped.

 

John found himself face down on the couch, voice muffled into the cushions as Sherlock tore off his trousers and pants. He dug into the cushions for the small tube of Vaseline and immediately shoved two fingers up his arse straight away.

 

John's giggle was high pitched and he started wiggling his bum back and forth and side to side. " Sherlockkk neeeeeds a fuucccckkkiinngggg" He singsonged, trying to spread his legs to push back into those fingers. He was making small, cute little noises trying to make the fingers brush against the spot inside of him.

 

Sherlock growled at him, keeping his thighs together and pressing a third finger in, and then out. Yes, okay, he was selfish, and he was going to fuck the ever-loving drug out of his system.

 

He wouldn't be able to control himself, and hopefully John would not be too sore the next day, but he really. Couldn't. Help. Himself.

 

John was strangely quiet, and Sherlock froze, moving a little to stare into John's face.

 

His tone was dangerous, sending chills up and down Sherlock's spine. Delicious. " If you don't give me the shag that I deserve, I will move out. I will go to Mycroft and beg him to fuck me, it really doesn't matter which Holmes really. Ooh I wonder how fun it would be to get a leg over the British Governme-" Sherlock saw red at the mention of his brother. He held those muscular thighs together and mounted him. Without pause, he thrust into the tight heat of John, causing the blonde to cut off mid rant and scream.

 

There was no time to breathe. Sherlock used his height to his advantage, and his weight, to pin John down and  _used_ him. The pressure on his cock was glorious, the friction almost too much.

John was shouting into the pillows, having no choice but to allow Sherlock to ride him as he pleased.

 

Sherlock immediately eased up, concerned, looking down to John's head. " Shit, are you okay, John."

 

John turned his head towards Sherlock's, cheeks flushed, lips wet and swollen from biting them, hair skewed, and pupils blown. He growled at Sherlock. " Or maybe I should get James Moriarty to fix my computer, and maybe drive into me as hard as he can. I wonder if he has a large prick. He should--"

 

Again Sherlock cut him off by ruthlessly jack hammering into his hole, and John happily went back to moaning into the pillows.

 

Sherlock yanked the man up, maneuvering them into a sitting position, highly reminiscent of what got them here in the first place.

 

John was blissed out.

 

He was gasping for breath, head laid back on Sherlock's shoulder, while his legs were shaking. "'Lock!'" He presumably gasped for Sherlock and the man slammed his hips up into John's, making his cock bounce against his abdomen. It was flushed an angry red, bulbous head wet with pre-cum.

 

Sherlock trapped John against his body with both arms and fucked the breath from John's lungs. One arm slid across the blonde's throat and turned his face towards Sherlock's.

 

"You.. think.. you can just walk in here.. and tease me like that without..consequences! You're mistaken, John. There's a reason I'm not interested in sex. I have an addictive personality, John. Combine that with sex and what do you get?"

 

He devoured John's lips with his own in a bruising kiss. He broke away with a smug look; John had gasped for air, his face turning red. He continuing to thrust, timing it with each syllable for emphasis. " ** _John. Watson. You. Can. Not. Manipulate. Me. And. Think. You. Can. Win._** "

 

John emitted a shout, where upon Sherlock had to quickly press his face into his neck to muffle him, lest he wake Mrs. Hudson, as he came, untouched and in long, large spurts across his abdomen and Sherlock's arms. A long fingered palm slid down to coax him through the explosive orgasm, and John releases a strangled sound, letting his hips press back and forth. Sherlock didn't let go until John whimpered, slapping at his hand while panting.

 

John wheezed, turning his face so that he could breathe.

 

Sherlock rolled his hips a few more times into John's and came with a loud, shuddering groan.

 

They each were lost in their post orgasmic bliss; it took a while for the polite tapping at the wall to register and they both burst out giggling. Sherlock's warning was in vain. They had awakened Mrs. Hudson.

 

As if she wasn't excited that the two were an item now; she's been hoping they were together from day one!

 

Sherlock carefully pushed them both onto their sides, pulling out of John with a quiet hiss. By the inflammation and redness of the skin surrounding his hole, he'd have trouble sitting and walking for the next week.

 

John sighed happily, sounding extremely sober. " I guess I fooled the great Sherlock Holmes."

 

Sherlock froze. Lifting his head from John's shoulder to look down at the blonde's smirking face. He sniffed John's breath and cursed.

 

No alcoholic content to be detected. John helpfully wiggled to the edge of the couch to extract the eye drops. Eye drops   
engineered to dilate pupils.

 

John stretched like a content cat, eyes half lidded in exhaustion. " I got what I wanted. And I want it again, Sherlock. Just in case that this situation didn't make it clear enough." John slipped into his sleep quickly, leaving Sherlock to analyze the entire series of events several times.

 

John Hamish Watson became the fourth person to ever outsmart Sherlock Holmes.

At the very least they both benefited.


End file.
